


And I'll Try To Be What You Dreamed

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: Fratt Week 2020 [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Frank Castle needs a hug, Fratt Week 2020, Friendship/Love, Gen, Having Faith, Morality, Pre-Slash, Protective Matt Murdock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24422362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Frank was a hell of a thing to have faith in.
Relationships: Frank Castle & Matt Murdock
Series: Fratt Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759633
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46
Collections: Fratt Week





	And I'll Try To Be What You Dreamed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fratt Week event prompt: Faith

It was getting colder as the weather creeped endlessly toward winter, prompting Frank to pull his jacket closely around himself as he moved swiftly down the street. Only half the streetlamps flickered to life, their bulbs long broken by rowdy kids or stolen by a few desperate souls looking to make a buck, Frank didn’t blame them, better then the alternatives. Still, it seemed the streets had been abandoned, he’d hardly seen anyone on his late-night walk except for the occasional swift-footed worker trying to get home and a couple of girls working the corner.

He made sure the walkers got home safely, keeping his distance but prompting them to jog all the same. Frank didn’t feel bad about it, honestly, they should be running every night when moving through the shit hole that was this end of Hell’s Kitchen. As for the workers…well he itched to give them some money for a decent hotel room and good food, give them some god damn peace. Thing was Frank wasn’t stupid and he knew the money would end up in the pocket of their pimp, the same one hanging out somewhere warm and not even keeping an eye on the girls.

That gave him a different itch. The one to grip the gun on his waist and hunt down the fuckers who had employed the girls and put a bullet in his head. If only it would solve the problem, if they hadn’t gotten the girls addicted to drugs first and hopeless enough not to try for a better life, if only another pimp wouldn’t just saunter on up and scoop them into the fold.

Frank clenched his teeth and put his head down, feet moving faster as he willed himself not to do it anyway. He wouldn’t even get that far, not with the shadow that had been following him for the past two hours, soundless and nearly invisible if Frank hadn’t been looking for him this whole time, waiting for him.

Turning sharply, Frank made his way down an abandoned ally, trash crowded up against the sides and a rickety fire escape at the end, rusty and coming apart at its hinges. God help anyone who tried to save their lives by climbing out onto that death trap. Looking up and just catching the flash of red on the edge he let himself smile for the first time in weeks. Without thinking too hard about it, he levered himself up onto the wide trashcan, overflowing and stinking, but just tall enough to reach for the first forgotten rung of an old service ladder. It wasn’t in much better shape then the fire escape, but it would hold, Frank knew from experience.

Dust fell from where the screws clung desperately to the old brick and Frank nearly laughed when a familiar masked face peered over the edge. Even from this distance and little lighting, he could sense the disapproval, not that he cared in the slightest. Looking for a reaction, Frank jumped, one hand reaching up for the next rung with practiced precision. As expected, a red clad hand was hesitantly extended and retracted when he realized Frank knew exactly what he was doing.

The rest of the way up was easy. There were several rungs missing, the same ones that gave him trouble when he was short and scrawny, were easy now with his bulk and muscle. Frank found himself standing on the roof of a semi-abandoned apartment building since he didn’t really count the rats and squatters. Standing a few feet in front of him was Matt Murdock, fully suited up and arms crossed, lips turned into a grimace.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you following me Red?”

Matt shrugged and finally the tension in his stance seemed to dissipate, making Frank want to get closer, to touch, to make those lovely lips moan and body arch beneath his touch. He didn’t of course, they were in the middle of a truce and until Frank could prove he wasn’t going on another rampage any time soon, that body was off limits. An agreement between them both, especially because Frank wasn’t entirely sure that was possible for him.

“I figured you’d know.”

“Keeping an eye on me Red? Making sure I don’t get any more blood on my hands?” Accusation slipped into his tone easily as Frank crossed his arms.

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

Matt shrugged, “believe want you want Frank but that isn’t why I’m following you. I have faith that you won’t do that again. You said you’d try and you have, I just wanted to be here in case you needed to talk, in case it got to be too much.”

Frank knew his expression had twisted a little. That happened whenever Matt brought up his shit about religion and faith and morality. The man’s perspective on that and his own role as the Devil of Hell’s kitchen was even more fucked up then Frank’s own twisted moral code.

Matt shook his head, clearly reading his mind in that disturbing and eerie way he was so good at, “not that faith Frank. Faith in you, that when you said you weren’t going to kill anymore you meant it and you were going to do everything you could to keep that promise.”

His words rubbed Frank the wrong way, just an instinctual thing that came with the strong and trusting words that always seemed to come out of Matt’s mouth when he least expected it, the very thing that made him soft on the man to begin with.

Frank didn’t have words to respond to that anyway. Couldn’t explain how deeply guilty and proud it made him feel all at once. He didn’t like it, not even a little bit, because he was a hell of a thing to have faith in, fucked up as he was, wading through shit up to his waist as he tried to find a way out, so he said the only thing that came easy to him, “come here Red.”

Matt did just that, without a word, like he also knew how overwhelmed Frank felt, and silently wrapped his arms around him. It was easier to pretend he could keep that promise here and so here Frank would stay for as long as he was allowed. In the arms of the only man who’d believed in him for a very long time.


End file.
